I found out that my mom's friend's wife, who is a GINORMOUS BITCH, is coming to our Fourth of July barbecue on the Cape. Now, some might argue that this is a bad thing. However, she said something mean to me years ago* and I didn't hold her crabby ass accountable. Since then my poor family has had to hear me go on about how I should have handled the situation. No one cares about this except for me, which makes me George Costanza. Witness:
Me: You know, if she says anything like she did last time, well, I'm totally going to put her in her place.
Me: Don't expect me to be nice! Because I'm going to let her have it!
Dorie: Are you staying for dinner?
Me: I'm just warning you, because there might be an uncomfortable moment. A very long, uncomfortable moment.
Dorie: Do you want to make a caesar salad?
The funny thing is that I still don't actually have a comeback for her, nor am I the sort of person who can deliver blistering, well-timed, cut-you-to-the-bone comebacks. But if the time is right, I do have big plans to announce to her that the jerk store called, and they're running out of YOU!
*She was harping on me for being so pale, which I'm sensitive about to begin with, plus I don't even know her that well and she was just really nasty about it. Basically, bitch is going down. DownTOWN. You know, where the lights are much brighter. And you can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares. Just listen to the rhythm of a gentle bossa nova, you'll be dancing with them too before the night is over...
Ahem. See above where I mentioned that I'm not the best at comebacks.